


Kaleidoscopic

by aykayem



Series: Satisfaction [3]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus liked to relinquish his control sometimes, and even then, rarely did he give it up completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kaleidoscopic

**Author's Note:**

> She topped. She did most of the time, in fact, excepting those times when Magnus wanted control, or Isabelle wanted the weight of a warm body above her, pinning her in place. And even then, Magnus usually found a way to assert himself, his hands climbing along her sides, her hips, her arms, her wrists. He would hold her hips in place, taking the reins of their lazy love-making; he would hold her wrists above his head, a sort of pseudo-restraint, letting her grip his pillows with sharp nails. It's so easy for him to lean up a little bit, propping himself up, one hand trailing down her back slowly; it's easy for him to find one of her breasts with his mouth, grazing his teeth against a hardened nipple, listening to the moan that resulted, the way her back arched against him; it's easy for him to get into all of this when she's so hot and tight and wet around him, her hips rocking to take his length deeper inside herself with each thrust. Sometimes it went faster than others, sometimes she wanted nothing more than to ride him hard and fast, and other times she just wanted to take it slow, to feel every inch of him.

It was those times that he would treat her to these other touches, the graze of his fingertips down her spine juxtaposed with his grip on her wrist. He loved her most like that, when he could truly enjoy the sights and sounds: the way her hair fell in her face; the way she shook it away, her face flushed; the way she softly panted his name as she grew closer to that climax; the way he could hear her nails scraping against the pillowcase, her sharp intake of air as it hit her, her final moan; the way her face had every little thought and feeling scribed across it in those final, perfect moments, when she was even tighter around him, hips rocking against his in short, desperate bursts. The way she would finally collapse against him, and his fingers would continue tracing up and down her spine past both their completions, their bodies mingling on an emotional level, rather than just the physical. And that was why she topped; that was why he let her.


End file.
